Mitigated Apprenhension
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! Continuation of the Werewolf of Bayport series. You need to read Caustic Heritage and Mythical Veracity prior to this one if you haven't already.
1. Default Chapter

"Who was on the phone?" Laura asked her husband as she entered the living room with her purse on her arm.  
  
"The owner of Weaver Manufacturing, Jonathan Weaver," Fenton answered. "There have been some break-ins and he wants me to take the case."  
  
"Are you going to?" inquired Joe, his blue eyes curious as he looked at his father.  
  
"Most probably," Fenton replied. "I will swing by his house on my way back from taking your mother to the airport. He lives in Southport so it will be late when I return."  
  
"Don't you two wait up for him," Laura admonished her two sons. "You both need to get some rest," she continued with a frown. She really didn't want to leave now. Joe looked perfectly healthy but she couldn't help feeling that there was something wrong with her youngest son that she didn't know about.  
  
"Don't worry, mom," Frank said, putting an arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze. "I'll take care of the baby."  
  
"Baby?" snorted Joe in mock anger. "I'm only a year younger than you!"  
  
"But I'm an adult," Frank retorted. "I get to vote this year."  
  
"Oh yeah; wise old man," Joe returned. "Oh boy, is this country in trouble," he mumbled loud enough to be heard.  
  
Laura laughed, her blue eyes sparkling as Frank released her and grabbed a pillow. In seconds, the two teens were having an all out pillow war.  
  
"Want me to stop them?" Fenton asked softly, his brown eyes gazing down into his wife's blue ones.  
  
"No," she said. "Joe has seemed so sad since he was kidnapped by Aliem and Anderson. This is the happiest I have seen him since."  
  
"I know," Fenton said, his own eyes clouding over with worry. "But he eats like there is no tomorrow," he added. "He can't be too bad off."  
  
"Unless it's depression making him eat," Laura countered.  
  
"Then he would be getting fat," Fenton pointed out.  
  
Laura looked at the blond-headed youth that was winning the fight against his dark-haired older brother and smiled. Fenton was right. Joe was in perfect physical condition. Better even than he had been months before. No, it wasn't depression causing his appetite to increase. "You're right," she agreed, smiling up at Fenton. "Let's go."  
  
"Don't leave without saying good-bye," Frank lectured his parents after Joe's pillow hit him one last time in the face.  
  
"Sorry," Fenton apologized. "I didn't think we would be missed."  
  
"Oh, we'll see you tomorrow," Joe said to his father, leaning down to give his petite mother a kiss on her cheek. "And don't worry," he added. "Frank will clean up the feathers."  
  
"Why me?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Because messes don't bother me," Joe explained with a sly smile.  
  
Frank shook his head then kissed his mom's other cheek. "Have a good time with Aunt Adelaide," he said.  
  
"Doubtful," Laura grimaced. "She's my least favorite of my mother's sisters," she explained. "But she is family and she does need someone to stay with her while she is in her cast."  
  
Laura and Fenton left and Joe helped Frank clean up the mess they had made then they locked up and turned off all but the living room light which they left on for their father's return.  
  
The lone youth walked unsteadily up the concrete walk, his steps faltering every so often as movement reached his ears. The wind whispered through the leaves on the trees that lined the sidewalk leading to the haven ahead.  
  
He spun around, his breathing shallow as he listened intently. Had that been a footstep he had heard or merely a squirrel scampering across a driveway to reach another tree?  
  
There! Someone was there. He was positive. Near the corner of the street was a shadow projected by the streetlight. But no. It wasn't the shadow of a person. The possessor was of the four-legged variety.  
  
He took a step back as a giant wolf, easily four feet at the shoulders, emerged into the light. The wolf's eyes were glowing as the light reflected off of them. It stood at the corner, its eyes staring straight at the blond-headed boy and slowly bared its fangs. The nostrils moved up as a low growl emanated from the beast's throat.  
  
Terrified, the boy turned and ran for the house at the corner, positive the beast could not follow him past the large Elm tree at the edge of the yard. But as the youth neared the tree, the beast landed on his back with a ferocious growl and lowered its huge mouth onto his neck.  
  
Joe sat up in his bed shivering; the almost full moon shining brightly through his open bedroom window. He got out of bed and walked to the window and poked his head outside. The night air was stagnant with not even the slightest of breezes evident.  
  
Joe closed his eyes, the horror of his nightmare making him impervious to the humid morning air. Dream symbolism, he thought with a grimace. His girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, had asked Joe to go with her to a lecture on the subject at Bayport University just days ago.  
  
He rubbed his arms and stared out the window and up at the moon. I don't need a dream analyst to tell me what my dream means, he thought sadly. Closing his eyes, he moved away from the window. He took a step to this left and gave a sigh before opening his eyes because he knew what he would see. Swallowing, he opened his eyes and stared at the calendar in front of him. One day had been squared off in red and it was less than a week away.  
  
Joe shivered again then returned to bed. He lay there staring at the ceiling. Why did this have to happen to me? he wondered as he drifted back to sleep.  
  
"Up and at'em, Baby Brother," said Frank, pulling the sheet off of Joe. "It's almost ten."  
  
"Already?" groaned Joe, stretching as he opened his eyes.  
  
"Hey, you got to sleep in because it's Saturday," Frank told him. "Don't go getting used to it."  
  
"I couldn't with you around," Joe retorted. "But I could get used to one night's uninterrupted sleep," he added with a yawn.  
  
"Another nightmare?" asked Frank, sitting down on the bed beside Joe.  
  
Joe nodded. "Well, the same one actually." He shook his head. "What am I going to do?" he asked, giving Frank a pleading look. "A full moon will be here before we know it and I don't want to hurt anyone."  
  
"You won't," Frank assured him smiling.  
  
Joe looked at him suspiciously. "Explain," he ordered, sitting up and crossing his arms.  
  
"Well, you only change, naturally," he amended because it had become obvious being in close proximity to a rock from the moon could also change him, "when the moon is full."  
  
"Maybe," Joe put in.  
  
"What do you mean?" demanded Frank, his eyes darting to his.  
  
"Some of the info I've read say strong feelings can effect a change," Joe informed him. "What if I get mad and start to transform?"  
  
"That could be one of the false facts," Frank suggested although his smile faltered.  
  
"Face it," stated Joe, his face revealing no emotion. "We don't know what is true and what isn't. Sure, I change and silver can burn me but when I'm not a wolf I can still get hurt and die."  
  
"Maybe I can get hold of a tranquilizer pistol. If you transform from feelings then knocking you out for a couple of hours should return you to normal," reasoned Frank.  
  
"Sounds plausible," Joe said although he did look dubious. He wasn't convinced he could be rendered unconscious in true wolf form.  
  
"Anyway," continued Frank. "Biff and I have been working on something for you."  
  
"What?" Joe demanded, his blue eyes alight with curiosity.  
  
"A kind of safe house," Frank answered. "His parents own a cabin in the North Woods."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Joe said. "We've gone up there with him a few times."  
  
"Well, what you don't know is that Mr. Hooper, Biff's granddad, had a bomb shelter installed there when he first bought the place," Frank informed him. "Remember, back then there was a craze about Russia dropping bombs on the United States."  
  
"I know," Joe replied with a scrunched up nose. "Part of that cold war thing we studied in history."  
  
"Biff took me up there the day before yesterday while mom took you for your check-up with Dr. Bates," Frank continued. "With a little renovation, it could be a good place to lock you in. The night of the full moon we could shut you in a little before sundown and keep you there until the next morning."  
  
"That would be great!" Joe enthused, his blue eyes showing the first real sign of relief in weeks. "But how are we going to explain going up there every month? Even on a school night?"  
  
"I'll think of something," promised Frank. "But we may not have to worry about it this month," he continued. "I caught Dad as he was leaving this morning. He took the case and may be out of touch for awhile."  
  
"Is he going to call?" inquired Joe.  
  
Frank shrugged. "If he gets a chance, I daresay he will," he said. "But for now, get out of bed. Callie called. She and Vanessa are on their way over to pick us up."  
  
"Where are we going?" asked Joe, standing up and stretching.  
  
"I have no idea," Frank replied with a grin. "But Callie said it was somewhere quiet and relaxing where no one would bother us."  
  
"Sounds like heaven," Joe said sadly.  
  
"What's wrong?" demanded Frank.  
  
"I have to break up with Vanessa." 


	2. Chapter 2

"Whoa," Frank ordered him. "Just heel," he said. "There's no need for that."  
  
"Frank, I'm a werewolf!" Joe reminded him harshly. "I can't ask her to put up with a monster for a boyfriend."  
  
"Maybe she'll think you're cute and cuddly," Frank couldn't resist teasing.  
  
"It's not fair to her," Joe said, ignoring his brother's remark.  
  
"You can't quit living because of this," Frank told him, seeing how serious Joe was. "It's only for one night a month."  
  
"I'm not trying to quit living, as you put it," Joe stated. "But I can't let Vanessa tie herself down to me when I can never have a permanent relationship with her."  
  
"Why not?" demanded Frank. "If you're serious about her, and I know you are, you need to let her make that decision for herself."  
  
"I should go ahead and tell her?" Joe asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
"Not until you are ready to make a commitment," Frank answered. "And if she loves you then she will be able to deal with it."  
  
"You really think so?" Joe asked pleadingly.  
  
"I know so," Frank declared. After all, he thought, he was dealing with it. "Now, get a move on or you will still be in your pjs when they get here."  
  
"With some of the fashions today, who would know?" Joe retorted as Frank left the room.  
  
"So, where are we going?" asked Joe, leaning back in the rear seat of the car and wrapping an arm around Vanessa as Callie started the ignition.  
  
"On a picnic," Vanessa answered. "We want you all to ourselves."  
  
"Sounds good to me," replied Frank from the front passenger seat.  
  
"Mmm-hmm," agreed Joe, closing his eyes and enjoying the fresh citrusy scent Vanessa emitted. He knew better than to comment because he had the feeling he was the only one who could smell it.  
  
"Oh, look!" exclaimed Callie after they had been driving awhile.  
  
Joe opened his eyes and gazed lazily out of the window. "Marlowe's Traveling Sideshow," Joe read, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Yuck."  
  
"Oh, come on," Callie begged, pulling the car to a stop. "It will be fun."  
  
"It's a crock!" Joe protested.  
  
"Which is why it won't hurt to look around," Frank said, agreeing with Callie that it would be a fun diversion.  
  
"We can stay here and wait for them if you want?" Vanessa offered, reaching up and touching Joe's cheek so he would look at her.  
  
"Nah," Joe rejected her offer. "Who knows?" he asked. "One thing might be real and that would be worth seeing."  
  
The four teens exited the blue Nova and approached the ticket booth. "It's on me," Frank said, looking back at Joe. If the show took Joe's mind off his own troubles for awhile then Frank felt it would be worth every penny. He pulled out two twenties and paid their fee.  
  
"Welcome to the wonderful world of teratology," declared their guide.  
  
"The wonderful world of what?" Joe asked.  
  
"Teratology," repeated the muscular man in his late twenties. "The study of monstrosities," he explained, smiling at the four teens. His blue eyes twinkled when he saw the skepticism mirrored on their faces. "Ah, you doubt such things exist but before your tour has ended you will be believers," he assured them. "My name is Sully," he continued. "If you have any questions, any at all, please do not hesitate to ask."  
  
The first exhibit was of a mermaid. She was quite winsome with flowing platinum hair but the boys could tell, even though she was partially hidden by the foliage in her glass tank, that she had an oxygen tank near her with the mouthpiece cleverly disguised as a large anemone.  
  
Joe winked at Vanessa who was trying hard not to laugh out loud at the scene. "Meet the lovely Delilah," Sully invited them. "She was caught in a fisherman's net off the coast of Belize."  
  
"She looks Irish," Joe commented, taking in the young woman's fair skin and green eyes.  
  
Sully's mouth tightened a fraction for a brief second before relaxing again. "Next, we have a fearsome griffin," he continued, leading them further into the tent.  
  
Each living exhibit grew more preposterous and by the time they reached the exit, all of the teens were laughing. Sully had given up trying to convince the youths that the exhibits were real after he realized they were enjoying themselves and weren't going to demand a refund.  
  
"That's it, folks," Sully told them about an hour later. "Marlowe has souvenirs for sale if you are interested?"  
  
"Sure, why not?" Frank agreed.  
  
Sully led them to another tent closer to the exit. "Marlowe!" he called out. "We have guests!"  
  
"Wonderful," enthused a man pushing sixty from behind a large desk. His hair was thick but graying and his green eyes were sharp as they accessed the spending power of the youths. "Step this way," he instructed. "We have..." he broke off as Callie screamed in fright.  
  
Everyone followed Callie's gaze to the large gray wolf that had boldly trotted into the tent. Vanessa moved behind Joe as the wolf approached.  
  
"Heel!" commanded Marlowe to the creature but it kept moving toward Joe until, less than three feet away, it fell to the floor and rolled over on it's back with all four paws in the air.  
  
Joe breathed a sigh of relief. "It's tame," he stated as he bent down and rubbed the animal's midsection. "He's adorable," Joe said, standing back up and looking at Marlowe who was watching him with a dumbstruck expression. 


	3. Chapter 3

"He is adorable," cooed Vanessa, moving forward to pet the beast. But the wolf leapt to its feet and took off out of the tent at a run.  
  
"Uh, we had better get going," Frank said, a phony smile plastered on his face as he grabbed Joe's upper arm. He had noticed the look on Marlowe's face as well as the shocked expressions of Sully and another young man in the tent and knew the wolf's reaction to Joe was not natural.  
  
"No!" thundered Marlowe anxiously. "No," he said again a softer voice. "Please stay. You can see behind the scenes, so to speak," he offered as an enticement to retain them. "Surely, you didn't believe what you saw. Allow me to show you how we accomplished our transformations."  
  
"Thanks for the offer, but we have plans," Frank refused the offer firmly. He pulled Joe from the tent leaving the girls to catch up on their own.  
  
"Dad, that was the wild wolf that has been attacking our pigs," said the young man from the corner of the tent. His green eyes were still filled with amazement as he approached Marlowe.  
  
"I know," Marlowe said. He turned to Sully. "Follow him," he ordered. "Find out everything you can about that boy."  
  
"Thanks for waiting for us," Callie declared in a voice drowning in sarcasm as they reached the car where Frank was whispering to Joe.  
  
Frank spun around. In his haste to get his brother out of a possibly threatening situation he had completely forgotten about the girls. "I'm sorry," he apologized as his cheeks turned pink beneath his tan.  
  
"Why did you two take off so fast?" demanded Callie, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at Frank.  
  
"It was because of that Marlowe guy, wasn't it?" asked Vanessa, looking at the boys curiously.  
  
"What?" Callie asked, confused.  
  
"Didn't you see the way he looked at Joe when his pet rolled over on its back and let Joe pet him?" Vanessa asked. "He probably thought Joe would make a good addition to his circus of oddities. Wolf-boy or something like that," she added disdainfully.  
  
Callie burst out laughing. "Raised by wolves, young Joseph is their chosen leader or some such rot," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "I can see that. Put Joe in a Tarzan suit and he could probably pull it off."  
  
"Very funny," Joe replied in a droll voice. "Can we go now?" he asked. "I'm hungry."  
  
"I hope we brought enough," Callie declared. "Here lately you could eat Chet under the table."  
  
Joe blushed but didn't comment as he opened the rear door for Vanessa. Callie was right. Since his disease had begun, and that is how he had come to view it, his appetite had increased dramatically.  
  
The group left the sideshow's parking area and continued their drive. Forty minutes later, Callie entered a state park and pulled to a stop. "Want to eat down here and then hike to the top to see the cascades or go up and eat while we view?" asked Callie.  
  
Joe's stomach chose that moment to growl. "Down here it is," Callie said without missing a beat as she turned around and grinned at Joe.  
  
After a leisurely meal the girls excused themselves to go to the public restrooms near the entrance before their hike. Joe sat up stiffly after the girls left and listened.  
  
"What's..."  
  
"Shh!" Joe hissed, cutting Frank's question short. Joe turned his head and sniffed. Nothing unfamiliar. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned back down to the quilt they had dined on.  
  
"What was it?" demanded Frank.  
  
"I could have sworn I heard someone breathing," Joe replied, unaware of how odd that sounded.  
  
"Breathing?" Frank repeated questioningly.  
  
Joe looked at his brother and gave a self-conscious smile. "Yeah," he admitted. "My senses are kind of heightened this close to the full moon," he explained. "I've noticed they get stronger days before the full moon and start to weaken after my transformation is over."  
  
"How can you tell?" asked Frank. "You've only transformed once...well, by the moon anyway."  
  
Joe told Frank about his heightened sense of smell after being scratched by the wolf in Mayhew's lab and how his senses and appetite grew the closer it got to a new moon. Then he told Frank that the weeks after his transformation weren't as bad but now he was starting to get overly sensitive again.  
  
"Sounds logical," commented Frank. "You really think there's someone else out here? It looks deserted."  
  
"I know," agreed Joe. "But even if there is someone else about it's no reason for me to go off the deep end. This is public place."  
  
"You're still spooked, though," observed Frank.  
  
"Something just doesn't feel right," Joe said, frowning.  
  
"The wolf thing?"  
  
"No," Joe denied, lying back and tucking his hands behind his head. "Just the same old tingling I always feel when I feel like I'm being watched." He paused for a minute before continuing. "Why did that critter do that?"  
  
"Dogs act that way," Frank reminded him. "Why not tame wolves?"  
  
"Dogs do it for their masters," Joe clarified. "But I can't even see a wolf doing it for its owner."  
  
"Maybe the wolf recognized you," Frank hypothesized. "Maybe it sensed you are a powerful wolf."  
  
"Great!" groaned Joe. "Even animals know I'm a werewolf!" he groaned way too loudly.  
  
"Shh!" hissed Frank. "Keep it down."  
  
The boys fell silent as the lone observer left the area, keeping upwind until he located a quiet place almost a mile away from where the boys were. "Boss, I think he's a real werewolf," Sully informed Marlowe when he answered. "Even his friend believes the kid's a werewolf so it can't be just lycanthropy."  
  
"That would explain the wolf's reaction to him," Marlowe said. "Keep following him," he ordered. "Find out where he lives. We have to have him!" 


	4. Chapter 4

Early the next morning Frank once again dragged Joe out of bed. "Ahh, come on!" begged Joe. "It's summer vacation!"  
  
"Biff is on his way over," Frank informed Joe. "We're going to head up to North Woods and start work on the bomb shelter."  
  
"This is for real?" asked Joe eagerly, opening his eyes and sitting up. Again he had experienced the same nightmare only this time after being attacked he had been dragged into the light of a street lamp and could see the burning red eyes and long-gleaming teeth of his attacker.  
  
"Yes," affirmed Frank, trying to hide the sorrow he was feeling. It wasn't fair that Joe had to be tortured so. He had been through so much and life just kept throwing curveballs at him. "Now get dressed," he said. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us."  
  
"Ready?" asked blond and beefy Biff Hooper when Joe opened the front door half an hour later.  
  
"Um..yeah," Joe answered a bit shyly. Biff had been his best friend since grade school but after finding out Biff had witnessed his transformation he was uncomfortable in his presence.  
  
"Are you okay?" asked Biff, concern showing in his blue eyes as he reached out and grasped Joe's shoulder.  
  
"Yeah," Joe answered, hastily backing away from the contact.  
  
"Don't be that way," Biff said, hurt marring his handsome features. "I'm your friend, remember?"  
  
Joe licked his lips. "I know," he replied quietly. "It's just..." he began miserably.  
  
"Just nothing," Biff stated firmly, interrupting him. "What happened to you isn't your fault."  
  
"Isn't it?" Joe retorted sadly. "There is a way I could not change."  
  
"True," admitted Biff. "But if you even think about trying to get yourself killed or, worse, killing yourself, I'll rip you limb from limb," he threatened. "I'll even wait until you do transform so I can really tear you up without killing you."  
  
"But it would be easier..." Joe began, saying what he had been thinking but too afraid to tell his brother.  
  
"When has Joe Hardy ever done things the easy way?" demanded Biff, quirking a blond brow. Joe's worried frown disappeared slowly as his lips transformed into a self-conscious grin. "That's better!" boomed Biff, wrapping an arm around Joe's shoulders as he pulled him closer. "Now, let's go find that brother of yours and get a move on. We might even be able to get a little fishing in."  
  
"Should I grab our gear?" asked Frank, appearing at the entryway that led to the living room.  
  
"No need," Biff answered. "There is always enough at the cabin."  
  
The boys arrived at the cabin two hours later. "Good thing this place isn't too far from Bayport," commented Frank as he jumped out of the van. "We may be able to sneak up here occasionally without mom and dad even finding out."  
  
"Why don't you tell them?" Biff asked when he and Joe joined Frank outside of the vehicle.  
  
"I told Frank and he thought I was crazy," explained Joe with a worried expression. "He had to see me change before he would believe it. I don't really want anyone to see me," he added self-consciously. "I'm sure it isn't a pretty sight."  
  
"I don't think that would bother your folks," Biff pointed out.  
  
"No," agreed Joe. "But knowing there was something wrong with me that can't be fixed would."  
  
"Your decision," Biff said with a shrug. "But I think you should tell them."  
  
"Where's the bomb shelter?" asked Joe, changing the subject.  
  
"Behind the cabin," answered Biff. "Only the top is visible and that is only when the leaves aren't on the ground."  
  
Frank and Joe followed Biff to the back of the log cabin and toward a large maple tree. "The entrance is marked by this tree," said Biff. "As you can see, there are leaves on the ground pretty much all of the time." He put his back to the tree and began measuring off his paces.  
  
"Six and seven," Biff said, stopping. He bent down and began pushing aside the leaves. Frank and Joe went over to help him and soon they had uncovered what looked like a manhole cover.  
  
Biff reached down and pulled on the lid but it would not budge.  
  
"Let me help," offered Joe. Together the boys had the cover off in seconds.  
  
"I'll grab the flashlights from the car," said Frank and took off at a run.  
  
Joe swallowed nervously. He wasn't afraid of the dark but he still didn't relish being locked underground in the dark. Biff must have figured out what was bothering his friend. "Don't worry," Biff said. "There's a generator down there. It just has to be cranked and it's good to go for 24 hours without being bothered again."  
  
Frank returned with the flashlight and the three descended the metal rail ladder into the shelter. Frank held the light while Joe and Biff worked on the generator. After only a couple of minutes strategically placed lights flickered on and Frank turned the flashlight off.  
  
"Doesn't need much work at all," commented Frank. "Just those few boxes to move out."  
  
"Toss out, actually," Biff corrected him. "They've been around longer than I have."  
  
Forming a line the three boys managed to get the boxes filled with rusty cans up the ladder and out to the van. "We'll drop these off at the dump on our way home," Biff said. "We can get a broom and mop from the cabin and finish down there."  
  
"I'll do it," Frank volunteered. He knew Joe would be spending a lot of time down there soon enough and didn't want him to be down there more than was absolutely necessary. "Why don't you two get the fishing gear and hunt us up some bait?" he suggested.  
  
"Can we skip the fishing?" asked Joe, giving Frank and Biff an apologetic look.  
  
"Sure," Biff answered, looking at his friend curiously. "Why? Aren't you feeling well?"  
  
"I feel great," Joe quickly assured him. "But, well, I don't think being with me in the woods is exactly safe."  
  
"Why?" demanded Biff. "There isn't a full moon. It isn't even night."  
  
"No," concurred Joe, turning to look into the forest where he could see various sets of yellow eyes watching him. "But I'm kind of popular here."  
  
"What?" Biff asked in confusion. He turned to follow Joe's gaze and gulped.  
  
"We'll tell you about it on the way back," promised Frank, feeling nervous. A lone wolf might accept Joe as dominant but the leader of a pack of wolves would probably try and fight for supremacy and when Joe wasn't in wolf form he was as vulnerable as anyone.  
  
Once they were back in the van and headed back to Bayport, Frank told Biff about the abnormal behavior of the wolf at the freak show. "Maybe you should stay away from there," suggested Biff.  
  
"Not a problem," Joe told him. "Not only would I not go back but the place was all tents and trailers. It will probably be moving on to the next town soon."  
  
After dumping the trash off Biff drove his friends' home. "Want to come in?" asked Frank.  
  
"No thanks," answered Biff with a grin. "Since we're back so early, I'm going to ring up Karen and see if she wants to go out tonight."  
  
"Thanks," Joe said, getting out of the van and closing the door. "For everything."  
  
"Anytime," Biff replied, his tone a bit soft as he saw the anguish Joe couldn't quite hide.  
  
Joe gave a deep sigh as Biff pulled the van out of the drive. "You okay?" asked Frank in concern.  
  
"Yes," Joe replied with a decisive edge to his voice. He smiled at his brother. "Thanks to Biff, and you, I feel like a big burden has been taken off my chest. I've been so afraid that I would hurt someone that I haven't been able to relax since this happened," he explained. "But knowing you know and that you will do whatever it takes to keep me from hurting someone...well, I feel almost like my old self."  
  
"Good," Frank said, pleased. "That's what I have been wanting. And you really don't have to worry," he continued. "I'll arrange for the tranquilizer darts before dinner."  
  
"I'm not worried," Joe replied. "Not anymore." Not much, he amended silently. He had realized on the way home how his situation was affecting his brother and had decided not to add to his stress by revealing how he truly felt: terrified. But letting Frank know how scared he was wouldn't help the situation so putting on a happy face and pretending to not be overly concerned was what he was going to do.  
  
He followed Frank up the steps and into the house. "Let's grab something to eat," Joe said, rubbing his belly as it growled loudly.  
  
"Later," answered a deep baritone from Joe's left.  
  
"Duck!" yelled Frank, spinning around at the sound and seeing the intruder taking aim at Joe with a baseball bat. 


	5. Chapter 5

Joe ducked and the bat swung over his head and crashed into the doorframe causing the wood to splinter. Frank reached out and grabbed the bat but released it quickly and doubled over in pain as a large foot rammed into his mid-section.  
  
The intruder prepared to swing at Joe once more but with a low growl, Joe grabbed hold of it and pulled. The miscreant relinquished his hold and Joe fell into Frank causing both boys to topple to the floor. The intruder, sensing he was going to lose the battle if he remained, yanked the front door open and took off at a run.  
  
"You okay?" Joe asked, rolling off Frank and getting to his feet.  
  
"I'm fine," answered Frank. "Don't...!" he shouted to stop Joe from taking off after the masked man but he was too late. As soon as Frank admitted to being all right Joe had taken off in pursuit.  
  
Frank got slowly to his feet. He was breathing but he hurt and he knew there was no way he could catch up with the intruder or his brother. He made his way into the living room and froze. His mouth tightened in anger as he saw his father bound and gagged to a dining room chair that had been brought into the room. Frank hurried over and pulled the gag from his father's mouth.  
  
"Joe?" Fenton rasped through dry lips.  
  
"He went after him," answered Frank, kneeling down so he could reach the ropes.  
  
"That boy," Fenton sighed, shaking his head. He frowned when he saw Frank hold his stomach briefly before tackling the knots that bound his feet. "You're hurt," he commented.  
  
"Just a bit," Frank admitted as he finished his task.  
  
Fenton stood and led Frank to the sofa. He lifted Frank's shirt and inspected the growing bruise. "Sit down," he ordered.  
  
"I'm okay," Frank objected.  
  
"We'll let a doctor decide that," Fenton stated.  
  
"I don't need an ambulance," Frank objected again as his father picked up the phone and began dialing.  
  
"I agree," Fenton concurred. "I'll drive you. But I am calling the police."  
  
While Fenton was on the phone Joe returned home. "I lost him," he informed his dad and Frank. "You okay?" he asked, looking at Frank quizzically when he never arose from his seated position on the sofa.  
  
"We'll know soon enough," Fenton answered for Frank hanging up the phone and coming over. "I'm going to run him to the emergency room. You wait here for the police. If they have finished before we return you can meet us there."  
  
"Okay," agreed Joe, frowning. He really wanted to go with Frank but knew better than to disobey a direct order from his father. "What are you doing back so soon?"  
  
"I lost the trail," Fenton answered ruefully. "Come on, help me get your brother to the car."  
  
"I don't need help," Frank objected.  
  
"Too bad," Joe said, grinning at him. "Relax and enjoy it," he said. "You do this to me often enough."  
  
"Oh, Hardy-har-har," Frank responded.  
  
"Oh good," Joe said as he held onto the passenger door of the car as Frank buckled his seat belt and Fenton got in behind the wheel. "This shouldn't take too long," he added, looking at the police cruiser that had just pulled in front of the house. "I should be at the hospital in no time."  
  
Frank just shook his head and grinned. He knew well how emergency rooms worked. His condition wasn't serious so he would most likely still be waiting to be seen when Joe did manage to arrive. And, after hours of waiting and possibly an ultra sound he would be released.  
  
"Hi, Joe," Sergeant Con Riley greeted Joe as he walked up to the youth. "Where are they going?" he asked, staring after the Hardy's car.  
  
"Frank got hurt," Joe answered.  
  
"Bad?" Con demanded, snapping his head around and searching Joe's face with his sharp brown eyes.  
  
"I don't think so," Joe replied. "But he's going to be sore for a bit."  
  
"Want to tell me what happened while we wait for Forensics?" Con inquired.  
  
"You'll have to talk to dad about that," Joe said. "Frank and I arrived during the last act," he explained then went on to tell what had happened upon their arrival home.  
  
"Can you give me a description?" asked Con.  
  
"Black ski mask, old blue jeans with a little rip below the left knee and a long-sleeve plain black tee shirt," Joe replied. "About two inches taller than me," he added, his forehead wrinkling in thought. "That's pretty much it," he ended with a shake of his head.  
  
"Maybe the boys in Forensics can come up with something more," Con said as another squad car came to a stop behind Con's.  
  
Joe stayed outside while the police did their thing. "I'll let you know what we come up with," Con promised Joe as he left almost an hour later.  
  
Joe went back inside and made sure the windows and the back door were locked then returned to the front door and prepared to open it. He paused with his hand on the knob as the phone rang.  
  
Gritting his teeth at the added delay, he picked up the receiver. "Joe?" his dad's voice came through the line. "Frank's fine. We're on our way home now."  
  
"That's a relief," Joe said, relaxing.  
  
"Are the police still there?" asked Fenton.  
  
"They just left," Joe answered. "I was just on my way out the door when you called."  
  
"Stay there," Fenton instructed. "We'll swing by the police station and give our statements then be right home."  
  
"Okay," agreed Joe. He hung up the phone and turned to go back into the living room but stopped when the phone rang again.  
  
Joe snatched up the receiver. "Hello?" he queried.  
  
"Say hello to someone," a voice ordered. Seconds later, Joe gripped the receiver tightly as a familiar voice came over the line.  
  
"Joe," Vanessa said his name.  
  
"Vanessa? Where are you? Are you all right?" Joe demanded, hearing the fear in her voice.  
  
"She's fine," the voice informed Joe. "For now. But if you want to see her alive again you will hang up the phone and exit your front door. At the foot of your drive is a van. You will get into the back and close the door. If you delay any after hanging up the phone the van will leave without you and your girlfriend dies." 


	6. Chapter 6

"Need help getting out of the car, Son?" inquired Fenton as he pulled the car into the garage and killed the engine.  
  
"No," Frank declined the offer. "I'm just a little sore," he added, opening his door and easing himself out.  
  
Frank entered the house first, expecting to have Joe waiting on the other side but he was greeted by a disquieting silence.  
  
"Joe!" Frank called out, growing concerned.  
  
Fenton put a hand on Frank's shoulder. "I don't think he's here," he said. "Or if he is, he can't answer us. Let's look around."  
  
"Nothing," Fenton said when he met back up with Frank in the living room. "There isn't anything out of the ordinary either. It looks like he left on his own accord."  
  
"He wouldn't," objected Frank, running a hand worriedly through his mane of brown hair. "At least, not without leaving a note and he didn't: I checked."  
  
"Maybe our intruder returned," Frank postulated after a moment's silence.  
  
"Then there would be some evidence of a struggle and there is none," Fenton pointed out. "You know Joe would have put up a fight."  
  
The phone began ringing and Frank picked up the receiver. "Hello," he said, mentally crossing his fingers and praying it was Joe.  
  
"Frank, is Vanessa there?" Andrea Bender, Vanessa's mother, demanded in near hysteria.  
  
"No, Mrs. Bender," answered Frank with a heavy frown. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"I just got in," Andrea answered. "Vanessa was supposed to be here. We were going to the movies tonight since Joe was supposed to be in the North Woods with you and Biff," she explained. "But when I got home the front door was open and the living room is a wreck!"  
  
"Mrs. Bender, I want you to go to your car and lock yourself in," Frank instructed her. "Use your cell to call the police. I'm on my way over."  
  
After hanging up Frank related the disturbing news to his father. "I don't like this," Fenton declared. "Go to the Benders but be careful," he ordered his son. "I'm going to call the police about Joe."  
  
"You think they are connected?" asked Frank.  
  
"I'd bet my life on it," Fenton affirmed.  
  
Frank reached the Bender farm minutes after the police. "Wait out here," Sergeant Klinger ordered Frank after he had exited his van.  
  
"Frank!" Andrea called out to him from his left.  
  
Frank turned his head and saw Andrea hurrying toward him. "Where's Joe?" she asked him. "Maybe she is with Joe," she suggested hopefully when Joe never got out of the van.  
  
"We don't know," Frank answered softly, his brown eyes filling with compassion at her crushed look. "Joe's missing too."  
  
"There's no one inside," called out an officer from the front door of the Bender home.  
  
Sergeant Klinger nodded his acknowledgement at the officer then turned to Andrea. "Ma'am, I need to ask you a few questions." Andrea nodded her acquiescence, but grabbed Frank's arm for support and held on tight. "How long were you gone?"  
  
"About an hour and a half, maybe two hours," Andrea answered. "I had to go to the drug store and the grocery store."  
  
"And you left your daughter here?" Klinger inquired.  
  
"Yes," Andrea answered. "She was watching something and didn't want to go."  
  
"Did you notice any vehicles in the area when you left or when you came back?" Klinger asked.  
  
"No," Andrea answered. "And the only vehicle I passed on the main road was as I was leaving. It was a cable van."  
  
"Excuse me," Klinger said as the radio attached to his shoulder blasted static. He moved away as he turned down the volume. He returned a couple of minutes later wearing a grim expression.  
  
"Mrs. Bender, your daughter has been found," Klinger told her. "She is alive and appears unharmed except she is unconscious. She has been taken to Bayport General."  
  
"I'll drive you," volunteered Frank.  
  
"We'll lock up when we finish here," Klinger promised Andrea. "I'll be in touch," he added with a slight nod as he headed toward the house.  
  
Frank and Andrea arrived at the hospital to find his dad there. "What are you doing here?" demanded an astonished Frank. His eyes widened and he paled a bit. "Joe?"  
  
"No," Fenton hurriedly answered. "Chief Collig was notified while I was on the phone with him about your brother," he explained. "Apparently, Joe exited a van and carried Vanessa to a park bench and then returned to the van."  
  
"He just left her? Unconscious?" Frank demanded in disbelief as Andrea looked on in horror.  
  
"He left her on the bench but Liz Webbing was there," Fenton continued. "She told the police that Joe looked around to make sure someone was there to take care of her before he left."  
  
"He left willingly?" Andrea asked in confusion. Joe's actions seemed contrary to what she knew of the youth.  
  
"I think there was some kind of trade off," Fenton informed her. "Joe had to do what he was ordered or..."  
  
"Or Vanessa would have been killed," Andrea finished for him. 


	7. Chapter 7

"How is Vanessa?" Andrea asked as a nurse exited the inner sanctum and came over to the group.  
  
"She's fine," the nurse assured the distraught mother. "She has regained consciousness and is chomping at the bit to get out of here."  
  
"Sounds like your brother," Fenton murmured to Frank.  
  
"Can she go home?" Andrea asked hopefully.  
  
"She can," the nurse answered. "She will be wheeled out in a few minutes. We just need to get some information from you first."  
  
"Dad, can you take them home?" asked Frank then turned to Andrea without waiting for an answer. "I'm glad Vanessa is doing okay," he added. "I'll call tomorrow and check on her."  
  
"Where do you think you are going?" demanded Fenton curiously.  
  
"To see Biff," lied Frank. "I have a feeling he will be able to help us find Joe."  
  
Joe turned his gaze away from Liz and took one last look at Vanessa before returning to the van. He climbed in the back and shot a venomous look at the man who held a sub-machine gun aimed through the window at his girlfriend.  
  
"Put on the shackles," the man ordered.  
  
"Fine," Joe stated through teeth that were closed so tight that they hurt. "You have me. What are you going to do to me this time?"  
  
"Continue my experiments of course," answered Mayhem, putting the gun down once Joe was safely secured to the back of the van.  
  
Frank pulled to a stop about a quarter of a mile from the traveling freak show and killed the lights and motor. His dad was working on a case that might have gotten Joe kidnapped but since Vanessa had been involved he sincerely doubted his father's case had anything to do with Joe's abduction. How could his father's enemies have known about Vanessa? How could they even have known where she lived? His dad hadn't been working on this case long enough for anyone to learn that much about him and Joe.  
  
Frank was positive Joe's abduction had to do with his lunar irregularity and that meant it had to be someone who knew his secret. Someone who had observed something that he shouldn't have. Obviously, Joe's instincts were right on the mark. Someone had been in the State Park with them the previous day and Frank would bet it was a member of the human circus.  
  
Frank climbed out of the van and stealthy made his way to the edge of the first tent. He remained quiet, listening for anyone who might be about but the area was cloaked in silence. Positive no one was around, he entered the tent and pulled out his penlight. After less than thirty minutes, he exited the large tent filled with empty exhibits and headed for the second tent.  
  
Perhaps he should have given the same amount of caution prior to entering the second tent as he had before he entered the first. Perhaps his desire to find his brother was so strong that he became careless. Perhaps he felt drawn to the second tent because he was sure Joe had to be there since it was the one that had held the imitation Bigfoot behind iron bars. Regardless of the reason, Frank threw caution to the wind and entered the second tent without batting an eye. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he entered.  
  
He pushed the tent flap aside and walked inside, freezing in fear at once. Reflected from the moon's light a pair of yellow eyes stared at him. Frank swallowed as low growl emanated from the area where the eyes were. Seconds later, two more sets of eyes focused on him.  
  
Frank took a step back even as the first pair of eyes moved closer. Another step back and then another. The eyes moved closer until Frank could see they belonged to the wolf that had prostrated itself before Joe such a short amount of time ago. Except this time, the wolf had company: two more wolves were in the tent. Two? he wondered. Weren't packs larger? He took another step back, shivering in fear as another growl sounded. This one from behind. 


	8. Chapter 8

"Blasted canines," stated Marlowe and growled again before tossing a small firecracker into the tent. The three wolves turned tail and took off through the tent toward the opening at the back from which they had entered.  
  
Frank almost went weak at the knees his relief was so great but he managed to keep his stature straight as he turned to face the man behind him. "Where's my brother?" he demanded in a deceptively calm tone as he made eye contact with the carnie owner.  
  
"How should I know?" Marlowe retorted. "The real question is what are you doing here?"  
  
"Looking for Joe," Frank replied truthfully. "Where have you got him?"  
  
"I don't have him," Marlowe denied empathically.  
  
"You know about him," Frank accused him.  
  
"Yes, I do," acknowledged Marlowe. "But he isn't here. Maybe he is at his girlfriend's if he isn't at home."  
  
"He was kidnapped," Frank stated, still looking into the carnie's eyes.  
  
"Why would I kidnap him?" Marlowe asked reasonably.  
  
"For your freak show," Frank declared. "He would be the only real attraction you have."  
  
"You are absolutely correct," Marlowe agreed. "But he would do me no good if he weren't here of his own freewill," he continued. "The public would have to be able to see him and that would be impossible if he were forced to be here."  
  
Frank wanted to argue but even he could see the logic. Anyone who saw Joe in a cage would know and no one would believe he were a real werewolf if they didn't see him change before their own eyes. "Then how do you know his secret?"  
  
"I had Sully follow you," Marlowe confessed. "I thought we could find out where Joe lived and try to convince him to join us. But Sully realized Joe didn't want anyone to know and that the two of you were trying desperately to keep it a secret. I decided to not even approach your brother after that."  
  
Frank looked sick. "Then you really don't have Joe here?" he asked, his voice unable to hide the desperation he was feeling.  
  
"I'm sorry," Marlowe answered. "You may look around if you like. You can even have the authorities check the place out but they might wonder why we would be interested in him in the first place."  
  
Frank didn't want to believe him but he had no choice. The man's eyes were open wide and Frank could not only see the honesty there but could also sense the genuine concern the man seemed to be feeling for Joe. "Would you like to borrow some of my men to help look for him?" he inquired.  
  
"No," Frank declined the offer. "Thank you." Leaving, Frank took one last glance behind him, uncomfortably aware that he would not find Joe on the premises.  
  
"Where are we going?" Joe asked. He was sitting with his back against the side of the van as it bumped over the gravelly road.  
  
"Somewhere safe," answered Dr. Boris Mayhem, never taking his eyes from the road. "At least, temporarily. I have a new lab set up and that will be our ultimate destination."  
  
"Why don't you just give up?" Joe asked, half in desperation and half in curiosity. "It isn't too late to salvage your career."  
  
"My career?" Mayhem asked with a short laugh. "One builds a career like mine to achieve greatness. I was the best. There was nothing left to prove." He glanced at Joe through the rearview mirror. "You are my career now. You are my path not only to true greatness but also to immortality."  
  
"You're crazy, you know that?" snapped Joe.  
  
"Crazy for believing you possess the answer to immortality?" Mayhem inquired mockingly. "Why, one would be more inclined to believe in werewolves, wouldn't one?"  
  
"Oh, ha ha," Joe replied dryly. "You do realize that if you keep doing your experiments on me that you will kill me and I will be of no use to you."  
  
"Yes," Mayhem agreed, sobering up a bit. "And that is why I have decided to trap your transformation."  
  
"What?" Joe asked, lost.  
  
"As a wolf you can't be easily killed," Mayhem stated. "But as a human you aren't much good to me," he continued. "So I am going to find out exactly how much exposure will leave you as half human and half wolf."  
  
"A Hollywood werewolf freak!" Joe commented in horror.  
  
"Indeed..." Mayhem began but broke off as the van lurched to the side of the road as another vehicle crashed into its side.  
  
Joe looked up hopefully. Could it be Frank he wondered? No, he realized as once again the van careened toward the right side of the road; Frank wouldn't risk hurting him in an accident.  
  
Mayhem pulled the van to a stop and snatched up his weapon but froze as a handgun was put through the open window to his forehead. "Play nice," Mayhem was ordered. "Hands in the air."  
  
Mayhem lifted his empty hands into the air and waited as his door was opened. "Out."  
  
"What do you want?" Mayhem demanded, putting up an air of indifference as he stood outside of the van facing two armed and masked men.  
  
"Your cargo," was the reply. "Oh, and we'll take the transport as well," one of the man answered.  
  
"You can have the van," Mayhem said. "But I need the boy."  
  
"Not as much as we do," one of the men returned. "Step aside."  
  
"Let's be reasonable," Mayhem began to bargain. He was cut short when the butt of one of the guns smashed onto the side of his head. Mayhem fell to the ground unconscious and one of the men got behind the driver's wheel.  
  
"I can get out here too," Joe said as the new player in the game started the engine.  
  
"Shut up, kid," the man ordered him. "Our orders are to bring you alive or leave you dead." 


	9. Chapter 9

Frank was in the kitchen brewing yet another pot of coffee when Biff knocked at the back door. "You look terrible," Biff greeted his friend when Frank let him into the kitchen.

"Joe was kidnapped last night," Frank informed his friend.

"The freak place?" Biff asked. "You guys thought they suspected Joe's secret."

Frank shook his head. "I checked last night," Frank answered. "By the way, I told Dad I was with you last night," he added. "I couldn't tell him where I was really going or I would have had to tell him why that human circus would want Joe."

"What can I do to help?" Biff asked. "We have to get him back before the next full moon."

"I know," Frank answered. "But unless Mayhem is back in town his kidnapping probably has nothing to do with his secret."

"Hello, boys," Fenton said, entering the room as Frank finished speaking.

"Hi, Dad," Frank greeted his father. "I was just putting on another pot of coffee. Want a cup?"

"Please," Fenton acknowledged. "I believe the only way we are going to find your brother is to continue with the investigation for Weaver," he said. "Biff, if you wouldn't mind, I would like for you to accompany Frank to the docks. In disguise, of course," he added. "Kerry Trent has reportedly been seen there. I want you to find him and follow him."

"Who is Trent?" asked Frank, handing his father a cup of coffee.

"He's an established fence for the more eclectic items," Fenton explained, sitting down at the table. He pulled a picture from his shirt pocket and handed it to Frank. Trent had a dark complexion and short dry brown curls and brown eyes. "My informant said Trent was in possession of two works of art by Andrew Pierson. Some of Pierson's works were stolen from one of Weaver's warehouses only last week."

"Why were they in a warehouse?" Biff asked.

"Weaver is a major distributor of fine arts and museum quality imitation artifacts," Fenton explained. "He deals with the Metropolitan Museum of Art as well as with the Smithsonian. He handles the mail order aspect of sales."

"And you think that if we follow Trent we might find out who is behind the thefts," Frank said.

"There is that," said Fenton. "But right now I am more concerned with finding your brother," he continued. "So if he does meet anyone, you two need to separate and follow who he meets with. There could be more than one individual and even then his contacts may have nothing to do with these particular robberies."

"So we don't call the police if we find something," Frank said, understanding what his father was getting at. "Not until we find Joe."

"Correct," Fenton acknowledged.

"What are you going to be doing?" inquired Frank.

"I have another lead to follow up on," Fenton said. "It involves a member of management at one of the warehouses. If you find anything, call and leave a message on the answering machine," he continued.

"Why?" asked Biff. "Did something happen?"

"Vanessa was kidnapped before Joe," Frank explained.

"She's at home now but can't remember anything," Fenton picked up the tale. He had escorted Andrea and Vanessa to the Bender's the night before and spoken with Vanessa when she regained consciousness. "She was drugged."

"But why was their place in a mess?" demanded Frank. "If she were unconscious when she was taken there wouldn't have been a struggle."

"Unless the drug had not come fully into effect before her abductor attacked her," Fenton said. "She would have been too disoriented to actually remember anything but still able to put up a minor struggle before fully losing consciousness.

"I'm off," Fenton announced, standing up and leaving his untouched coffee on the table. "Be careful," he added as he left the room.

"Your dad seems a bit preoccupied," Biff noted, staring after the detective.

"Even for him," agreed Frank. "He's probably just shaken up because Joe's missing."

"Joe's been kidnapped before," Biff pointed out. "And your dad was always focused."

Frank shrugged because he couldn't explain it himself. "Come on," he said. "Let's get into disguise and get to the docks."

"There he is," Biff hissed, grabbing Frank's arm and squeezing it almost three hours later.

Frank turned to look in the direction Biff had been watching and sighed in relief. He had begun to think this was a dead end. "He' s moving," Franks aid. "Let's go."

The two boys followed Trent into a small cafe where the man sat alone and had a cup of coffee and the daily special. To keep up appearances, the two boys ordered coffee and donuts. When Trent paid his tab, Frank tossed a ten at the cashier and he and Biff followed. A few minutes later Trent stopped to talk to two men. One was roughly the same height as Frank with thin, straight black hair that was put into a ponytail and the second was an inch shorter with a more muscular build and curly blond hair.

Unable to get close enough to hear, Frank and Biff watched as the three men chatted and then separated. "I'll take the blond," Biff said, moving away from Frank.

Frank followed his man for almost thirty minutes before arriving at the back of a deserted building. The man looked around and Frank quickly dodged behind a trashcan. When next he looked up the man was gone but the door to the building was just closing. Frank rushed forward and grabbed the door before it could close.

He pulled it open just a bit and peered inside. The area was dimly lit by light shining through the dirty windows but Frank could see no one present so he went inside and shut the door quietly behind him. The place was packed with furniture but it was obvious no one had used the office in some time. The floor was littered with footprints and the dust on the tables was disturbed but not to the point of extended usage. Obviously, thought Frank. This office was only an entryway to where whatever was going on actually occurred. He moved forward, heading toward the open door at the opposite end of the room.

Only two yards into the office and a light snapped on, freezing Frank in mid-stride. Three men moved out into the open as the man Frank had been following stepped through the open doorway. "Well now," the man said. "This is a pleasant surprise." 


	10. Chapter 10

Biff followed his man down the next street and into the lobby of a cheesy hotel. The man went straight for the courtesy phones. Biff took the phone next to him and picked up the receiver, pretending to make a call of his own. He strained to hear what was being said beside him.

"Ralph, it's me," said the man. "Kent has a tail," he continued. "Trent led the rat right to us but we're going to catch it. Get Benny and meet me at the old Friar Insurance building on Devon Street. Kent's going to lead him around for half an hour. That should be enough time for us to get in place."

Biff remained where he was as his prey departed then dug in his pocket for change. He called Chet Morton. "Chet, Frank is in trouble," he said. "Call Phil and Tony and get to Devon Street near the docks as quick as you can," Biff said as soon as Chet answered. "I'll meet you there."

Biff was waiting at the corner of Devon and Squirrel Streets when Tony pulled to a stop in his dad's old car. He, Chet and Phil exited the car as Biff walked up to them. "I'm glad you got here so fast," Biff said as he approached.

"Biff?" asked Chet in surprise. He recognized the voice but not the youth. Biff nodded. "What's going on? " demanded Chet. "Why is Frank in trouble and where is Joe?"

"I'll explain later," Biff said. "We need to get out of sight. Frank and Kent will be here any minute."

Biff led the boys to the side of the Friar Insurance building and peered inside the window before ducking around the corner. "There are three goons inside waiting to jump Frank," he told his friends. "Kent, the guy Frank is following, is going to lead him right into the trap."

"But we'll jump them before they get to jump Frank," Phil said grimly.

"That's the plan," agreed Biff. "Heads down," he said almost immediately. "Here they come."

The boys watched Kent enter the alley to the side of the building and Frank follow. "As soon as Frank entered the building Phil took charge. "Biff, you and Tony go through the front. Chet and I will go in behind Frank."

Chet and Phil entered the back of the building, visible but unnoticed as all eyes were focused on Frank except for Frank who was looking at Kent. "Who are you?" Frank demanded of Kent. Even though completely out-numbered he refused to show fear.

"The question is, who are you?" Kent countered. "Why are you following me?"

"I thought you were breaking in," fibbed Frank.

"Liar," Kent hissed. "Tim and I saw you following Trent. Then when we approached him we figured you would follow one of us."

Frank sighed in relief. It didn't sound like they knew about Biff. "Okay, I was following you," Frank admitted. "I know Trent is a fence. I figured if I followed one of his customers I might be able to get in on the action."

"You're in on it, all right," agreed Ralph, a stocky redhead with a black tooth showing when he smiled at Frank. "And soon, you'll be out of it forever." He and the others advanced on Frank.

"Now!" shouted Biff from behind Kent.

In less than three minutes the room was cleared out except for Frank, his friends and one lone prisoner: Kent. "Where is my brother?" demanded Frank.

"Another Hardy, huh?" Kent asked, smiling thinly at the youth.

"Where is he?" Frank repeated, grabbing the man by the scruff of the neck and pushing him hard into the wall.

"Don't know," Kent answered, his grin a fully formed smile now. "But I might be able to find out after you let me go."

Frank growled and brought back his fist but before it could connect with Kent's face, Biff grabbed it in mid-swing. "Let the cops handle him," he said.

"Biff's right," concurred Phil as Biff released Frank's fist. "If he is unconscious no one will get anything out of him."

Frank pulled the man forward and then shoved him hard into the wall once more before moving away. He pulled out his cell phone and called the police.

"Here ya go, Kid," said a tall, thin man as he leaned down and removed the gag from Joe's mouth. He lifted a liquid meal drink to Joe's lips and let him drink.

"Who are you?" asked Joe. "And how did you know Mayhem had me a prisoner in the van?"

"We were watching your place," the man admitted. "We saw you get into the van. We followed and just picked the first opportunity we had to get you. We had no idea you were a prisoner...that is, until we saw you drop the girl off at the park."

"And why were you watching my house?" asked Joe.

"Your old man decided to get involved in our affairs," the man informed Joe. "You are our insurance policy that he doesn't interfere with us tonight. It's our last job and we don't want any hassles."

"Your last job?" asked Joe, picking up on the man's words.

"That's right," the man said, smiling at Joe as he put the gag back in Joe's mouth and stood up. "After tonight, we're closing up shop here. We'll be rich men and there will be no more need for a hostage." He saw Joe's eyes widen fearfully. "Relax junior," the man said. "If you and your old man behave, we'll let him know where to find you." With these words, the man left the room.

Joe began trying to free himself as soon as the door closed. This man may be under the misconception that he would be freed later but Joe did not have similar illusions. He looked around for something to help free him but he saw nothing of any use so he began rubbing the ropes against the rough concrete wall, hoping the friction would fray them. It was a time consuming task but eventually it did pay off.

Joe pulled his sore wrists from the ropes and yanked the gag from his mouth before attacking the ropes that harnessed his ankles. Free after hours of confinement, he got shakily to his feet and leaned against the wall for support until the pain of poor circulation passed.

He tried the knob and was unsurprised to find it locked. There were no windows in his prison but fresh air was coming in from somewhere. He looked around and found a vent near the ceiling. He looked around the sparse room and spotted a few small crates in a corner. Neither was large enough to help but perhaps if he built a kind of pyramid he could reach the vent?

Heaving a determined sigh, he started to work. Ten minutes later, a haphazard display sat before him. He stepped up onto the first layer, praying the empty crates would support his weight. So far, so good. Another foot up and another layer down. And another. Finally, he stepped onto the top crate. He felt it wobble and froze, holding his breath as the pyramid settled. When they were still once again he leaned up and began working the grate from the vent. He eased it off and laid it gently on the layer below him, afraid to let it drop in case someone should hear and come to check on him.

Hauling himself up, he slipped into the vent and squirmed through the space on his stomach. It was a long, arduous process but when he came to the other end he was overjoyed. The room ahead was empty. He pushed at the grate but could not get it to budge. Groaning, he slipped his fingers through at the corners and felt for the screws. After what seemed like forever, his fingers pulled the last screw out and the vent fell to the floor of the room. Joe held his breath, waiting for one of his captors to come see what had made the noise but the door to the room remained shut.

He slithered out of the vent and did a handstand, his feet in the air briefly before falling to the ground. Standing up, he moved to the door and gently tried the knob. The door opened. Greeted by silence, Joe felt almost delirious with success. He tiptoed through the door and down the hallway. There, the large back door stood open. He could hear someone talking outside and chose to turn around and seek another exit.

Minutes later, Joe exited the front door without trouble and ran for the dirt road ahead of him. He ran as fast as he could, wondering where he could be but he recognized nothing of the area. A car, he thought frantically, when a small roar approached him. Unsure if the road were private or not, he knew he could take no chances and veered off of the road and made a dash into the woods.

Still moving forward, he looked back to see if the driver had stopped and was following him. He saw the car pass by and continue up the road to the house before turning back around to see where he was going. His eyes widened in horror when he saw the deep ravine ahead. He began skidding as he tried to stop himself from going over the cliff. Too late! His left foot tripped over a branch as his right foot stopped and over he went, falling toward the chasm below. 


	11. Chapter 11

Joe felt himself falling over the cliff and reached out blindly. He grabbed at the first thing his fingers came into contact with and held on tight. He felt the forward momentum stop as his arm jerked. Joe groaned in pain but held on tight. He swung around and grabbed at the edge of the cliff with his other hand. Minutes later he was once again on solid ground but at a price. His arm had been pulled from its socket. Knowing there was but one thing he could do, he made his way to the closest tree and took a deep breath. Refusing to scream because he knew it would mean his recapture, he took a deep breath and rammed his shoulder into the tree. 

"Grrugh," Joe grunted, unable to keep completely quiet at the contact. He moved his arm. It hurt like the dickens but at least he was sure it was back where it belonged. But there was more pain. Unnoticed before, he looked at his hands. The thing he had been holding onto had been overflowing with briars and his hand was bleeding almost profusely by now. Knowing he couldn't waste any more time, he tucked his hand under his arm and applied pressure to it as he turned back toward the road and began his trek home; planning on keeping to the underbrush beside the road this time even if it meant going at a slower pace.

"Any luck?" Fenton asked as Frank walked into his office followed by Biff, Chet, Tony and Phil. "What happened?" he demanded in concern.

Frank told his father about the trap. "But we did get one of them: Kent Gaines," Frank continued. "He wouldn't talk to us but the police are still trying to get something out of him."

"I think I will head down and listen in," Fenton said, rising from his chair. "Are all of you boys going to help?" he asked, looking at the new faces in this play.

"Yes, Sir," Chet answered for all of them.

"Good," Fenton replied, smiling. He was glad his sons had such loyal friends. ""I found out where the next robbery is going to take place." He lifted some papers from his desk and handed them to Frank. "This is a layout of the warehouse. I want you to familiarize yourself with the set-up, especially the exits. We'll be staking the place out tonight."

"But what if we don't have Joe back by then?" questioned Phil.

"They have Joe," Fenton stated. "Catching them is the only way we will get him back."

"How can you be sure?" asked Frank. "It is possible it was someone else. I mean, no one has actually said anything."

"The lead I was checking out this morning paid off," Fenton said. "Donald Thompson was involved with the robberies. That is how I know which warehouse is being hit tonight. He gave a full confession when we threatened to implicate his wife as an accessory."

"Was she?" asked Frank.

"I don't think so," Fenton answered. "But Thompson didn't want his wife involved in the actual proceedings at all. Anyway, he admitted that Joe is a prisoner of theirs although he couldn't tell me where Joe was being kept. He said Joe had been taken to the summer home of a friend of one of the gang's members. That was all he knew."

Fenton had been gone for less than thirty minutes before the phone rang. "Hardy residence," answered Frank.

"Frank, it's me," Joe said.

"Joe! Are you all right? Where are you?" Frank demanded, grasping the phone tightly.

"I'm at Bayport General," Joe answered. "I got away and flagged down a car but I kind of got hurt in the process. It isn't too serious but they need an adult here before they can take care of me."

"I'm on my way," Frank promised. "Wait here for dad," he told his friends. "Tell him Joe's at Bayport General but I should be bringing him back home in a bit."

Frank was surprised to see his father's car pull into the hospital parking lot directly in front of him. "Dad, how did you find out?" asked Frank, parking the van and running to catch up with his father.

"The hospital reported it to the police station," Fenton said. "Once your brother is released, I have to take him to the station to file a report. How did you find out?"

"Joe called," Frank answered, as they entered the emergency room.

"We're here to see Joe Hardy," Fenton said at the receptionist's area. "I'm his father."

The nurse handed Fenton a clipboard and pen. "You can fill that out after you have seen him," she said kindly. "Just go through those doors. He's in the first room on the left."

"No," Joe was saying as Fenton and Frank neared the room. "I can't have a transfusion. It's against my religion."

"But you have lost a lot of blood," the doctor ordered.

"I can't..." Joe began to object again but stopped speaking when his dad and Frank entered the room.

"Yes, you can," Fenton declared, not looking at Joe. "Just be sure that the transfusion is from donated blood, not one on one."

"That's the strangest stipulation of religious beliefs I have ever heard of," the doctor said, shaking his head. "But that's what we were planning on doing anyway."

After the doctor departed to make the arrangements Fenton looked at Joe. "Religious beliefs?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. He continued without giving Joe a chance to explain. "I'm guessing you're worried about catching AIDS or something," he said. "But they screen the blood so you don't have to worry."

"That's good," Joe said, relieved that his father hadn't demanded to know why he had been refusing the transfusion. He had been thinking of the transfusions Frank had given him and wasn't going to chance giving someone else the curse he now wore.

"I had better go call the guys and tell them they can go home," Frank said.

"Tell them to meet back at the house at eight," Fenton told Frank before he left.

"Eight?" asked Joe. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Your brother, friends and I are going to stakeout the next warehouse," Fenton said. "You are going home and to bed to recuperate."

"How is Vanessa? Is she mad?" asked Joe before his dad could make his exit.

"No," Fenton assured Joe. "She doesn't remember anything. But I know she will feel better once she knows you are okay and are going to stay that way by remaining home tonight."

"Fine, I can see I am definitely not going on the stakeout," Joe said. "But can we stop off somewhere before we go home?" he pleaded. "I'm starving."

At ten till eight the doorbell rang and Frank opened the door to allow his friends entry into the house. Fenton issued final instructions before turning to Biff. "Joe is upstairs in bed," he said. "He was exhausted. Turn the alarm on after we leave and keep it on. If you hear something, don't check it out yourself. Call the police."

"Yes, Sir," agreed Biff. 

After everyone left, Biff flipped on the alarm and went upstairs to check on Joe. Reaching the top of the steps he bent over and grunted when a fist connected with his stomach. Before he could straighten up on his own, he was yanked by the arm and dragged into Joe's bedroom.

Joe sat up in surprise as the light flashed on and Biff fell onto the foot of his bed.

"We only need the Hardy brat," said one of the intruders. "Let's eliminate the waste now," he added, aiming his gun at Biff. 


	12. Chapter 12

Joe's blue eyes darkened and he leapt out of bed, landing on the man who held the gun on Biff. In seconds the man was lying on the floor unconscious and Joe had turned his attention to the second intruder. The man's eyes widened in fright as Joe's glance landed on him. Joe's breathing was steady as he lowered his head, his eyes cutting holes in his prey as he advanced. The man began backing away but, once more Joe was too fast for his victim. With a guttural cry, Joe landed on the man, knocking him backward. Joe bunched his hand and brought his fist forward, connecting with the man's jaw. The intruder was unconscious in less time than his associate.

"J...Joe," Biff stuttered, unsure of Joe's reaction at the moment.

Joe turned to look at Biff, his eyes lightening back up to their own natural shade. "You okay?" he asked, going and sitting down beside Biff on the bed.

"I'm fine," Biff replied, reaching out and taking Joe's bleeding hand into his own. "You've opened your wounds."

Joe shrugged. "They'll heal tomorrow night when I become a wolf," Joe said. 

"Until then, you need them taken care of," Biff said.

"Okay," agreed Joe. "I'll redress my hand if you'll call the cops."

"Here they come," Fenton said over his talkie to alert the boys inside the building of their forthcoming company. Fenton exited his car and followed the route the thieves had taken, alert for any stationery guards they had left in their wake. 

As agreed on, the boys kept watch and did not interfere. Almost two hours later the thieves were ready to leave. "Let's move, boys," Fenton spoke into his talkie. "They're heading out the west entrance."

"Going somewhere?" asked Frank, smiling as he stepped in front of the exit. 

"Where did you come from?" demanded Ralph, snarling at Frank.

"Same place we did," Chet spoke up, coming up behind the men. Within seconds, Phil, Tony and Fenton had also put in an appearance with Fenton holding his gun on the men.

"Put them on the ground, nice and easy," ordered Fenton. The men did as instructed and Frank pulled out his cell phone.

"Shouldn't take the police long to get here," Frank said.

"You don't want to do that," said one of the men, staring Fenton in the eyes. "Not if you want to see your baby boy again."

"Shows what you know," snorted Chet. "Joe escaped."

"True," acknowledged the man. "But two of our associates were in place before you left home tonight."

"Yeah, right," sneered Tony, his dark eyes looking at the men contemptuously. "If you had any idea we would be here tonight then you wouldn't have shown up."

"On the contrary," Ralph countered. "With Hardy's son as a hostage we had nothing to lose but much to gain."

"Call home," Fenton ordered Frank.

Frank hit the speed dial and waited with bated breath as it rang once, twice and then a third time.

"Hello," Joe's voice came through before the fourth ring could finish.

"Joe, are you and Biff all right?" demanded Frank.

"We are," Joe acknowledged. "There were two goons waiting in the house for you guys to leave but currently they are behind bars and some of Bayport's finest are waiting outside the warehouse where you are. The chief said he would wait for your call before moving in unless the thieves tried to escape."

"That's great!" enthused Frank, grinning at the disgruntled looks on their prisoners' faces as they realized something had gone wrong. "We'll be home in a little while." 


	13. Chapter 13

Since it was so late Phil, Chet and Tony went straight home rather than return to the Hardy residence that evening. When Fenton and Frank arrived home they found Joe and Biff in the kitchen with Joe polishing off what was once a whole roast that Laura had prepared and refrigerated for them to consume while she was away.

"Did you get them?" asked Joe, reaching for the last roll on the plate in front of him.

"We did," acknowledged Fenton. "That was definitely one of the quickest cases I have ever worked on."

"How is your hand?" asked Frank, reaching out and snagging Joe's bandaged hand. He unwrapped it for a look-see.

"Seems to be healing well," Fenton said, looking at Joe's palm. And indeed it was. Even after reopening during his fist fight with the two intruders his hand now looked like it had been healing for a couple of days.

"I guess whatever the doctor put on your hand really did the trick," Frank said, seeing the look of curiosity mingled with astonishment that his father wore. He quickly rewrapped Joe's hand.

"Any food left?" asked Fenton.

"I think there's some fried chicken," Joe replied.

"I'm going to cut out," Biff excused himself, standing up. "Feel up to that camping trip tomorrow?" he asked looking at Joe.

"Wouldn't miss it," answered Joe.

"See you tomorrow," Biff added before leaving by the kitchen door.

"Where are you going camping?" asked Fenton.

"North Woods," Frank answered. "We've been planning it for awhile," he added. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Doesn't Biff's family have a cabin up there?" inquired Fenton.

"Yes," acknowledged Frank. "It's more of a fishing trip than a camping trip," he amended.

"Well, I hope you boys have a good time," Fenton said, smiling. Sighing with relief, Frank went to the refrigerator in search of the chicken. "I think I'll call it a night," Fenton said, ruffling Joe's hair. "You sure you're alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine, dad," Joe answered, smiling up at his dad through eyes that had taken on a permanent sadness not unnoticed by his father.

As soon as Fenton left the room Frank sat down beside Joe. "You know next month when the moon is full its going to be a school night," Frank said.

"What are you saying?" Joe demanded.

"Biff was right," Frank told him. "You should tell Dad."

"I can't," Joe said miserably. "He wouldn't believe me."

"He would after tomorrow night," Frank argued. "He could see it with his own eyes."

"I can't," Joe said, shaking his head.

"Why not?" asked Frank.

"I'm afraid he won't love me anymore," Joe replied in a breaking voice as tears began to roll down his face.

Around the corner and just out of sight Fenton gave a heavy sigh and continued on his way through the living room and up the stairs.

(The next evening)

"It's almost sundown," Frank said, looking up at the sky.

"Time to go to my cage," Joe said, standing up.

"We'll be here waiting on you," Biff said. 

"With your clothes," Frank added, holding out his hand.

"Oh, yeah," Joe said, starting to unbutton his shirt. "I almost forgot." He had decided to go into the shelter naked, not wanting to rip his clothes when he transformed. Soon Joe stood naked except for the towel he had wrapped around his waist. 

Frank gave Joe a hug and then escorted him to the shelter's entrance. "Lock it as soon as you get in," he ordered his brother.

"You could lock it from out here," Joe suggested.

"Not a chance," Frank replied with a shake of his head. "What if something happened up here? You couldn't get out."

"What could happen?" demanded Joe.

"You have to ask?" Frank countered with a raised brow.

Joe laughed and began the descent into the shelter. He flipped the generator on and locked the hatch. Turning around he entered further into the shelter. He stopped; shocked and amazed to see a deer carcass lying on the floor near the left wall. A small piece of paper lay on top of the animal. Joe picked up the paper and read the words, the sadness that had settled over him slowly fading away:

I think this might help with your hunger! And for the record....I will always love you! Dad

This concludes the third story in The Werewolf of Bayport series.

Next up in this series: Fallacious Truant 


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